


Nightmares are worse when you're alone.

by FifthLegionFulminata



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: BAHAHAHAHA, M/M, in the first chapter at least, just nice things, ruin their fucking lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 07:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12228564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifthLegionFulminata/pseuds/FifthLegionFulminata
Summary: I'm just- gonna fuck the bbs up. Let's be frank. Eiffel is a secret agent thing, because I love the idea of that. Let's rescue Hilbert!





	1. Chapter 1

Douglas Eiffel was not exactly what you would call an “over-achiever.” Don’t get him wrong, he loved his job. He just preferred doing the bare minimum and then spending the rest of the day with his feet on his desk while he gossiped with Hera. So it was not without some despair that he walked into his office, his hair a tangled and curly black mess, and saw Minkovski there waiting for him. She tosses him a hairbrush from off his desk when he shuffles in, used to his morning routine, and continues scanning a collection of files into Hera’s databanks. He slowly untangles the mess of hair atop his head, determined to draw out the inevitable out for as long as possible while watching her work, her short blonde hair and crisp clothes immaculate as always. When he’s finished, he digs around in a drawer until he finds a ponytail holder he can use to pull his hair up into a bun. He tries to frantically think of some other thing he needs to do to delay Minkovski from whatever she came in for when she looks at him, clearing her throat to get his attention. “Yeees, Commander?” She smiles at him briefly before turning to Hera’s projection. “Hera, pull up the image files for me.” “Of course, Commander.” Hera’s projection flickers momentarily, it’s blue light dissipating for a second before reappearing, and when she returns she waves one of her ethereal hands and images are displayed on the wall before them.

Eiffel looks at them with interest and trepidation, tapping his steel and carbon fiber fingers on his desk and bouncing his left foot. Projected before them are people that he knows too well: Cutter, his eyes seeming to say that he finds their lack of faith disturbing; Kepler, who Eiffel avoids looking at; Jacobi and Maxwell, their expressions rather strained behind the giant red ‘X’s obscuring half of their faces, and lastly the man Minkovski came in to discuss, Alexander Hilbert. Stern faced, with graying hair and beard the color of mahogany, and a perpetual frown. “I’m sure I don’t need to reintroduce these people to you, Eiffel,” she says with a dismissive wave to the images. “You know everyone on the board already, so we’ll skip that step and get straight to the point. We have reason to believe that Alexander Hilbert is going to try and defect from Cutter’s side, like Maxwell and Jacobi. We’ve been letting Cutter’s people intercept our transmissions on them on purpose, as you know, to encourage defection whenever possible so this is exactly what we’ve prepared for. What we aren’t prepared for is the fact that it seems like he’s not defecting to us. We think he’s just going to book it and try to vanish into society, which we cannot allow- we need his testimony against Cutter- so you’ll be sweet-talking him into teaming up with us. Offer him whatever he wants, within reason, of course.” Eiffel grimaces, rubbing his shoulder where his bionic limb meets his skin. “I mean, are you suuure you want me to do this? You know what happened the last time; maybe you should send Lovelace instead.”

Minkovski puts her hands on his, stilling his nervous movements. “Lovelace refused, Eiffel. She said it was a conflict of interest for her and she couldn’t be trusted to get him by any means necessary. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t send you, but I can’t risk Jacobi or Maxwell for this. Cutter would do anything to get his hands on them again, and I’m worried about how green they are. Theres only you, Eiffel. I’m sorry.” Eiffel resumes his anxious foot tapping, rubbing his shoulder without noticing and avoiding her gaze. “Ah, well. If I’m your only hope, Princess. Whats the plan?” He misses the expression of heartache and worry on her face, as if she’d give anything to keep him out of this, but she reigns in her emotions and explains the mission. “You’ll be breaking in to his bunker, its set up much like Maxwell and Jacobi’s were with the living quarters and lab on the second-to-lowest and lowest floors respectively. There’s a small cadre of guards, but nothing to worry about. He’s not interefered with by Cutter or Kepler, which will make this easy for you- they don’t want to mess with his quarantine too much. He is under quarantine, by the way, given his predilection for viral diseases. So for the most part you’ll try to woo him and get him here in one piece.” Eiffel nods absently, lost in his own thoughts until Minkovski stands and plants an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. “You’ll be fine, Eiffel. The guys a science nerd, it won’t be hard to get a hold of him.” She ruffles his hair, grinning at his irate expression as she leaves before he can retaliate.

Eiffel fusses over his hair and considers the plan Minkovski has drawn out for him, viewing the blueprints they have of Maxwell and Jacobi’s bunker. The Wonder Twins shared it, like they do most things, and while the setup will likely be different for Hilbert’s it hopefully won’t be enough to cause a problem. He gets up with a sigh, scratching the back of his neck, and makes his way to Jacobi’s workshop.  
Maxwell is there, as always, snoring loudly with her head resting on Jacobi’s cluttered workbench and apparently oblivious to the amount noise Jacobi is making. He has to kick Jacobi’s foot to get his attention, and when he looks up his smile beams out from the grime covering his face and arms. “Eiffel! Hows it going, man?” Eiffel grins back lazily, fiddling with some machine parts on Jacobi’s workbench until they’re taken from him. “Hey, I was playing with that!” “Thats a vial of acid, Eiffel. You probably shouldn’t play with it. Here, play with my keys instead. What can I do for you?” Eiffel tries to muster the dignity to refuse but Jacobi has a little articulated Voltron keychain that he can’t help but want to mess with. “I was hoping you could make sure my arm and foot aren’t going to give me any trouble. Jacobi nods even though Eiffel is totally absorbed in messing with his keychain and doesn’t even see it, walking to a metal cabinet next to his very cluttered desk. He digs around for a moment before finding what he needs and coming back to Eiffel. He does a quick inspection of his bionic limbs, tightening a loose ligament in Eiffel’s arm and running a systems check before nodding in satisfaction. “You’re all set. Just make sure to keep the joints well greased.” Eiffel beams at him gratefully. “Thanks, Jacobi. I gotta ask, do you know anything about Hilbert? He’s just a scientist, right?” Jacobi crosses his arms, tapping his bionic fingers and frowning in thought. “If he’s just a scientist I’m just a guy who likes fireworks. The man is one of the most stubborn, angry, stoic people I’ve ever met. I have a feeling he’s gonna be a hard sell.” Eiffel makes a face. “Well, wish me luck then. I still gotta pack my tools o’ the trade, so I’ll see you later.” Jacobi pats him on the shoulder warmly, his voice reassuring. “You’ll do great, Eiffel. It’s gonna be super easy this time, not like it was when you got us out. Everyone just leaves Hilbert alone to work, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Eiffel laughs, almost embarrassed. “Is it that obvious that I’m nervous?” Jacobi grins at him. “Absolutely. Now put Voltron back on my keychain.” Eiffel pouts about it but returns the keychain to it’s proper place before leaving Jacobi to work, heading to his apartment on the base. He makes sure he packs his tool kit for his arm and foot, as well as extra clothes just in case. When thats all said and done, he reports back to Minkovski.

“Yo, Minkovski. Officer Eiffel, reporting and ready to party.” Minkovski holds her fingers an inch apart, saying to him in an apologetic and teasing tone, “Aw man, Eiffel. You were thiiiis close to actually sounding professional!” He laughs, grinning at her and snapping his fingers in mock disappointment. “Shucks. Maybe I’ll get it next time. So, where am I going this time? Alaska? New York? Or, don’t tell me- say it ain’t so- Idaho??” Minkovski kicks his leg when he starts getting dramatic, stopping his act in it’s tracks and making him whine in exaggerated pain and cling to her until she gives a frankly weak apology. “Fine, fine. I’m sorry for sinking to your level. And you’re going to Nevada. Congrats, it’s gonna be hot and miserable! But we’ve got the usual safe houses set up from here to there, Hera will update the next coordinates every time you check in at one to avoid any… complications that may arise. Otherwise, you just gotta get to him and explain our goals. Convince him by any means necessary, Eiffel. Even if it means you have to promise to do an impossible task. Any questions?” “Yeah, if I do this does that mean you’ll finally let me get a dog?” Minkovski sighs, rubbing her temples to ward off a headache as she answers. “Yes, Doug, if you do this I will get you permission to have a dog on base.” “Woop!” He fist pumps, bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement before thrusting out a hand for her to shake on it, declaring, “You shook on it, no take backsies! Alright, now I’ve got some serious motivation to do this right. Have Hera send me to coordinates and I’ll head out. Wish me luck!” He waves over his shoulder as he leaves for the aircraft hangar on base, missing Minkovski’s worried expression as she watches him go.

Eiffel doesn’t bother making sure that he has everything, knowing that it’s all where it needs to be on the plane he’ll be flying in. Its a de Havilland Canada DHC-6 Twin Otter, one of the heaviest load-bearing passenger planes out there. It’ll be a one-way flight, using a small business’ frequent deliveries as a cover to get him into the town of Elko’s airport. While he waits for his pilot to arrive, he chats with Hera on the small portable display installed on the plane. “Hey baby. How’s the new update working? Maxwell didn’t forget to add the new seasons of Game of Thrones and Voltron: Legendary Defender, right? Cause I’ll have a stern talk with her if she did, you just say the word.” Hera’s projection laughs, skipping in the middle. “No, Officer Eiffel, Maxwell did not forget. H-honestly, I don’t know why you’re so set on making me watch these with you, Maxwell and Jacobi both watch the same shows you do.” Eiffel slams his fist lightly against the cushioned armrest, his tone that of mock indignation. “It’s the principle of the matter, Hera! You should be able to nerd out with us too, not just stuck processing the tons of files Minkovski sends you every day. Its inhumane to keep you from the glories of television!” Hera snorts delicately, rolling her eyes at his theatrics. “Oh yeah, its suuuper important to make sure the AI can watch TV. Thats right up at the top of the new proposal for AI rights, I’m sure.” Eiffel points a finger at her, his voice stern. “Hey now, it is important. How else can you help me make memes about Jon Snow’s ass if you don’t know how glorious it is?!” The argument continues until Hera concedes defeat, laughing. The pilot finally shows up and Hera blows Eiffel a kiss before shutting off her projection.

The flight is uneventful, Eiffel napping for most of it. He wakes up when the first fingers of Dawn brighten the sky, the light spearing his eyes as he opens them slowly. The pilot lands at Elko’s airport, Eiffel jumping out with him to unload the crates that were added to the flight to hide his arrival. He jokes back and forth with the pilot before announcing he was gonna find them a hotel with a view, the pilot’s signal that he was leaving. He flips open the shell covering the inside of his bionic forearm to check the beeping display there. It’s about the size of a deck of cards, showing on a grid-map of the city where his first unmarked car is. He walks for a while, meandering, until he makes his way to it. Its not a bad car, a Mazda Tribute, a bit top-heavy but with the power to get out of an area quickly if necessary. He throws his bags into the trunk and drives to the next set of coordinates, located fifteen miles into the desert. The building he finds there is a two-story concrete compound, glinting palely in the bright desert sun, surrounded by razor wire topped fences covered in signs that read “Military facility,” “Area protected by snipers,” and various other threats. Eiffel doesn’t see anything that actually suggests a security force is even present but after unconsciously rubbing his shoulder he finds himself unwilling to take chances. He drives back to town, getting a seedy motel room and eating Pringles on the musty duvet while he waits for the sun to set.

Its only once the moon is hanging above the town that he feels comfortable with heading back into the desert to the compound. He spends precious time scouting the building before locating a perfectly corner he can lurk in, positioned below a window that is either covered or looks into a darkened room. He throws his jacket on top of the razor wire, climbing over it and pulling it down with him as he lands lightly on his left foot, allowing the shocks he had installed to absorb the impact. A quick look at the fence to make sure it’s not damaged by his climb and he’s back to breaking in, moving silently to the window. He peeks over the sill, noting that the room inside is empty and dark like he hoped, and checks the sill for a way to climb inside. One bent credit card later and in he goes, closing the window behind him before he makes his way, catlike, through the building. Minkovski was right, Hilbert is apparently quarantined with only a tiny amount of guards. Eiffel easily slips by the ones on duty, just two to his amusement, and heads for the lowest level. He decides against using the elevator, working his way down a surprising number of them before finally reaching the end, taking a moment to catch his breath. Its a simple matter of finding Hilbert’s location after that, keeping his eye out for any surprise guests. When at last he sees Hilbert, the older man is standing with his back to him in a neatly organized office, muttering to himself in Russian as he works on something. Eiffel clears his throat after a minute to get his attention which he immediately wishes he hadn’t done.

He wasn’t at all prepared, not even a little bit, for the intensity of Hilbert’s glare while face to face. He feels an awful lot like a bird or mouse trapped by a snake, heart pounding loudly and eyes wide as Hilbert sizes him up coldly. “Yes? What do you want? You are interrupting important process in experiment, so be quick.” His voice is devoid of emotion, low in tone and thickly accented. Eiffel shakes himself out of his paralysis, grinning crookedly at him in embarrassment. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you Doc. The name is Douglas Eiffel, and I think we need to have a talk.” As if it were even possible, Hilbert’s gaze goes even colder as he says in irritation, “I do not care what your name is, and I do not care if you believe we need to speak. I am not someone whose time you can demand so easily. Leave.” Eiffel approaches his desk, ignoring his command to leave, and picks up a paperweight with a glass-blown jellyfish inside. He studies it with interest, oblivious to Hilbert’s slowly rising ire at being ignored, and puts it back down after a moment. “Well, that sucks that you think we don’t need to talk. Cause, ya see, I work with the Hephaestus Investigative Unit, which I’m sure you know of since thats whose currently spearheading the FBI’s investigation into Cutter and his dealings. Seeing as you’re here, and I’m here, theres obviously something we need to discuss. Mostly about how you’re on the dark side, my good Doctor, and we over at Headquarters would like to have a word with you about that.” Eiffel seems oblivious to Hilbert’s anger, picking up a fountain pen with a fascinated expression and looking at Hilbert in delight. “You actually use this?! Are you some kind of time traveler??” Hilbert growls in irritation, snatching the pen out of his grasp and sitting at his desk, ignoring his gasp of disappointment.

Eiffel leans his elbows on his desk, resting his chin in his hands while studying Hilbert with a strange intensity. Hilbert stiffens when he sees how close he is, unable to look away from the younger man’s verdantly green eyes that stand out brightly in his tanned, perpetually smiling face. Eiffel grins when they make eye contact, as if he can’t help it. “Say, Doc. You know that we heard you were trying to leave. I’m sure that you planned to just cover your tracks and get out of Dodge, huh?” He raises his eyebrows inquiringly, continuing when Hilbert deigns not to answer. “Well, thats gonna be harder than you anticipate. Part of our job over at the Unit is to offer you a way out. You come with us, testify against Cutter. We go after Cutter and Kepler and you go home free. We’d also be offering you a job if you agree to testify, of course, but was there something specific you’d want in exchange for helping us?”

Hilbert narrows his eyes suspiciously, speaking slowly. “What if I said that I wanted your head on a platter? Or a facility to practice human testing in? Would you give me these things?” Eiffel looks at him silently for a second, then shrugs. “I dunno if I could give you my head on a platter, or a place to test on people, but I can give you Cutter’s head and a place to work in. Unless you’re really set on having mine in particular. In which case, you’ll have to ask the boss lady for that.” Hilbert looks at him, frowning deeply. “And if I say no?” Eiffel doesn’t even hesitate, saying, “Then I keep trying to get you to say yes. Would it help you to know that we have Jacobi and Maxwell? They both knew about you, so I’m going to assume you knew of them as well?” Hilbert crosses his arms which he takes as a yes and continues. “Well, we offered them a way out. They were to ones who decided to work for us afterwards, in exchange for the freedom to continue their research as they pleased. Within reason, of course. We can’t let Jacobi blow up everything he wants to, which would be problematic, but as long as he can fine-tune his skills on abandoned buildings and cars he’s happy. Maxwell can develop AI’s all day if she wanted to, which she does, and she has Hera to work with on different problems. For you, we could let you continue whatever research you wanted to. After all, I have a feeling that what happened with Decima wasn’t your intention?” Hilbert’s eyes widen slightly, the only indication of his surprise, and Eiffel looks at him with something like pity. “Yeah, thats what I thought. Jacobi and Maxwell went through something similar with their own research; Maxwell’s AI’s being twisted into cyber terrorism tools and Jacobi’s bombs murdering thousands at a time. Neither of them were willing, but ya’ll didn’t really have the option to tell Cutter no- not with Kepler lurking behind him, hoping you’d try to fight. Well, heres your chance to stick it to him. Wanna ruin his life?” Hilbert is silent for a long moment, thinking, and Eiffel distracts himself by fiddling with something as he waits for an answer.

“I will go, but there will be rules. I will not make diseases for you. I will be left to my own devices, and allowed to work in peace. In exchange, I will work on a provisional basis. I reserve the right to change my mind at any point, da?” Eiffel grins victoriously, holding out his right hand for him to shake on it. Hilbert puts his hand in his and immediately loses track of what he’s doing, pulling him towards him with a distracted frown to inspect the incredible work thats been done with his prosthetic. Its a mixture of carbon fiber and steel, the inner structure mimicking the anatomy of a normal human hand. He’s fascinated by the novel idea of including tactile abilities, noting the electrodes that are almost too small to see that are everywhere on the hand and surmising that theres likely electronic nerves running throughout. He grabs Eiffel’s other hand to compare the two, impressed by the attention to detail as both are nearly indistinguishable as far as he can tell as Eiffel’s jacket covers the rest of his arms. “Who made this?” Eiffel’s voice is a little strained, but he responds promptly. “Jacobi did, he also did my leg and his right hand.” Hilbert lets him go, looking angry or perhaps lost in thought. “Uhhh, soo… did you wanna go ahead and get out of here, or were you planning on staying?” Hilbert nods, still thinking about something, and throws a few files into a briefcase before walking out the door, leaving Eiffel to hurry behind.

He only comes out of his reverie when they make it to the fence surrounding the building, the only way they can leave without anyone noticing. Eiffel strips off his jacket again, motioning for Hilbert to wait there, and climbs the fence once more. He latches his metal hand onto the chain links to keep him steady as he covers the razor wire with his jacket before reaching his hand out to Hilbert for him to hand over his briefcase. Hilbert does so and winces a little when it lands with a muffled thwack on the other side of the fence. Eiffel then lays across the wire, moving slowly to ensure that he won’t get cut as Hilbert watches in minor trepidation. Eiffel reaches down with his right hand his time, hooking his feet into the fence to steady himself as he helps Hilbert up and over. He makes sure Hilbert is on the ground before freeing his jacket, hissing a little when the wires snag and snap at his face, cutting his cheek. He tucks his jacket under one arm and checks for any damage on the fence before finally jumping down, careful to land on his left foot again. Hilbert hears the sound of machinery whirring softly and looks at him with interest as Eiffel dusts himself off and replaces his jacket.

He leads Hilbert to where he left his vehicle, about a mile away, and its only when they’re in the car that he finally speaks. “Man, I hate it when theres razor wire. Barbed I can deal with, razors freakin’ hurt! Its just like Cutter to be a sadistic asshole and put razors on his fences.” He digs around in the backseat and finds his first aid kit, wiping the blood thats smeared on his face off with an alcohol swab. Hilbert watches his clumsy ministrations for a moment before getting irritated, yanking the kit out of his hands and doing it for him. Eiffel tenses up, but lets him work without anything more than a confused glance which Hilbert returns as a glare. “You have problem, Eiffel?” Eiffel shakes his head quickly, which gets makes Hilbert growl in frustration. “Do not move, idiot.” Eiffel goes stock still, or tries to, unaware that he’s fidgeting until Hilbert is done. “There. Now we may leave. Also, I hope you are up-to-date on your tetanus shots.” Eiffel laughs, wincing a little when the bandage pulls on his cheek, and starts the car. “Yeah, I have to be, otherwise my arm n’ leg’ll fall off or something. Or, at least, thats what Jacobi says. Thanks, by the way. I always sucked at first aid in training, you’d think I’d be better at it but I’ve never really picked it up.” Hilbert grumbles, which is apparently how he acknowledges thanks, and his voice is almost angry. “Was always interested in medical field, even if I focused on virology. Practical medicine is a hobby.” Eiffel looks impressed as he begins driving them out of the desert and onto the highway, heading north. The drive is quiet, Hilbert being the kind of person who doesn’t practice small talk, and Eiffel entertains himself by daydreaming as he pays attention to the road.

Its only after three hours of driving that Hilbert finally speaks up. “Where are we going, exactly?” Eiffel glances at him before answering, “We’re going to a number of places, actually. In order to reduce the possibility of being followed back to base, the location of which we like to keep on a need-to-know basis, we have to kinda zig-zag our way back. Wouldn’t want Kepler to know where we’re keeping everyone.” Hilbert nods, then asks another question thats been on his mind. “Why are you employing such an unusual group of people? Why do you need a demolitions expert, AI programmer, and virologist? What use do we have for you?” Eiffel thinks for a moment before answering. “Its not that we have any particular reason, I guess its more like: better us than them? The Unit is a little, specialized part of the Department of Defense and FBI, like a weird love-child. Basically, most of us in the unit fall under the same categories: previous Military or DoD background, expert in their respective field, and drive. We all have to want the same thing in order to be really effective, and in this case we all reaaaally want Cutter in jail or dead. With our new additions, we can branch out in our goals a lot more. Now we can investigate the source of a cyberterrorism attack, or find out what was used to make a bomb to narrow down the location of the bomber without having to go through too much red tape since we’re self-contained. We hope you’ll be able to help us reduce the number of bioterrorism acts we’ve been dealing with lately. Over six in the last year, and we have no idea what links them, so heres hoping you can figure it out.” Hilbert is staring at the side of his head, Eiffel can feel it and its starting to make him nervous. “What??” “You are an expert in something?” Eiffel looks aghast, and frankly feels insulted. “I am an expert in a lot of things, thank you! And you know what, I’m not gonna tell you why I’m so great because its wasted on you. You don’t deserve to know.” Hilbert’s voice is so dry Eiffel could start a fire with it. “I am devastated.” They bicker like that for hours until they get to the first safe house.

Eiffel turns off the car, reaching into the backseat to grab his bags before jumping out. Hilbert is waiting by the door, arms crossed and expressionless as ever, as Eiffel lets them into the darkened house. He makes Hilbert wait by the entryway as he searches the house quickly before feeling comfortable enough to let Hilbert disappear into the back bedroom. Eiffel follows suit, falling asleep on the couch with a contended sigh. The next morning they each take a shower and eat quickly before leaving for the next place, neither of them talking so early in the day. Around noon Eiffel perks up, telling Hilbert about whatever random thing pops into his head as he drives. It gets to the point that Hilbert is trying to decide if gagging Eiffel would be too much when he catches the words, “God! Whose hand was I holding?” and before he can catch himself he says, “I actually understand that reference. The Haunting of Hill House, da?” Eiffel beams at him, excitedly. “Yeah! I was just saying, I had Hera read that to me one Halloween and I had nightmares for a week! It was amazing!” Hilbert nods, saying in a surprisingly friendly tone, “I enjoy horror novels, especially ones that make you question your reality. Is interesting, but usually do not find them very scary. Am not surprised that you are coward.” “Geez, don’t spare my feelings Hilby. Tell me how you really feel.” He’s not sure if he imagined it, but he’s pretty sure Hilbert smiles a little at his quip, just a tiny bit. ‘Holy crap,’ he thinks, 'Hilbert has a sense of humor. Ohhh, I can’t let up now.’ He spends the next hour telling Hilbert all of his best terrible jokes, looking at him eagerly to see if he smiles. Not once does he do so, instead fussing at him to pay attention to the road rather than enjoying Eiffel’s fantastic sense of humor. Finally Eiffel brings out the big guns, the best joke he knows. “Abner was seated at his wife’s sickbed, weeping uncontrollably, when his wife, mustering the dregs of her strength, drew herself up to one elbow. 'Abner,’ she whispered, 'Abner, I cannot go to my Maker without confessing my misdeed.’ 'Not now,’ muttered the stricken husband. 'Not now, my dear. Lie back and rest.’ 'I cannot,’ she cried. 'I must tell, or my soul will never know peace. I have been unfaithful to you, Abner. In this very house, not one month ago - ’ 'Hush, dear,’ soothed Abner. 'I know all about it. Why else have I poisoned you?’”

Eiffel laughs helplessly, delighted as always with such a twisted joke, and glances at Hilbert. His face is turned away, apparently in disgust, but a second glance reveals that his shoulders are shaking in silent laughter. Eiffel can’t resist, jostling his arm with his elbow and teasing him. “What! Are you telling me that of all my jokes you found that one funny? You’re a sick man, Hilbert.” Hilbert watches him giggle helplessly for a while, inordinately pleased at seeing him genuinely happy before giving into the urge to mess with him a little. “If this is how you are when you are all the time, I will be grateful to part ways when we get to base.” Eiffel looks stricken, his face a mask of hurt, and Hilbert panics momentarily before noticing that Eiffel’s eyes are smiling still. “Well, you’ll just have to get used to that. This is me, 24/7, every day all day. You should see me on base, I have to give everyone a chance to hit me to get it out of their systems, otherwise people would just knock me out and leave me tied in a corner. Minkovski actually did that once, after I locked her in her apartment for three hours so I could go watch Jacobi blow up a car instead of going to a meeting. It was soooo worth it.” Hilbert looks at him in disbelief, shock writ across his face. “You locked your boss in her home to watch an explosion? How have you not been fired? How has she not killed you yet?” “All good questions, but I honestly have no answer to either of them. She says its cause I’m the office eye candy so she has to let me stay, but I think its cause she likes me.” He laughs, looking at him like he’s sharing an inside joke which makes Hilbert feel warm. Hilbert wonders why he finds it so easy to talk to him even though they barely know one another, and chalks it up to Eiffel’s dogged cheerfulness. Eiffel pulls over at some dinky diner to eat, requesting a corner spot. To Hilbert’s curiosity he doesn’t look at the menu, ordering whatever the waiter recommends, but assumes he frequently eats at places like this.

They argue over Eiffel’s lack of awareness for personal space due to Eiffel’s need to stretch out as much as possible, Hilbert kicking him in the left leg to get him to move and immediately having to cover up the fact that he’s in pain from doing so. Eiffel laughs himself to tears, pointing at Hilbert’s strained expression with malicious glee. “Thats what you get for kicking me, you jerk! Forgot about that one, huh?” Hilbert speaks after a moment to compose himself with as much dignity as he can muster, saying, “Did your parents not teach you that it is rude to make fun of others?” Eiffel makes a strange face before shaking his head, apparently the only answer he’ll give on the matter. Hilbert presses on, curious at his reticence. “What, no witty retort? I am disappointed in you, Eiffel.” Eiffel avoids looking at him, saying in a reluctant tone, “I don’t really talk about my parents. Cause, you know, I don’t actually have any. So can we pretend I gave an excellent, witty response and leave it alone?” The rest of the meal is spent in silence, relief obvious on Eiffel’s face when Hilbert doesn’t mention it, and when they leave Eiffel opens the hatch on his forearm to check the nearest safehouse’s location before groaning melodramatically and drawing the attention of a passerby who walks by quickly. Hilbert looks over at him curiously and sees Eiffel’s expression of despair. “The next place is four hours away! Dammit, I wanted to take a nap. Ugghhhh, stupid Minkovski, she shoulda put them closer together.” Hilbert raises an eyebrow at his dramatics, speaking slowly. “Is that not the point, to make it difficult to reach?” Eiffel throws his hands up in the air as if in disgust. “Hilbert, don’t bring logic into this! Its unfair!” Hilbert shakes his head, getting into the car to avoid having to deal with the irate man. Eiffel gets in after a second of disbelief, proving Hilbert’s theory that he was just doing it to be silly, and he starts the car, heading towards the next safehouse as he continues complaining.

Thirty minutes later, Eiffel’s run out of steam and has finally stopped only to notice that Hilbert fell asleep somewhere in the middle of his ranting. He graciously decides to let him nap, driving through the night to the tiny cabin Minkovski has ready for them. When they arrive he wakes Hilbert up by poking him in the cheek, grinning mischievously when he gets a tired glare in return. “Come on, sunshine. We’re here. Unless you’d rather stay in the car?” Without a word Hilbert stalks into the cabin, finding a bedroom to sleep in and promptly passing back out. Eiffel laughs to himself as he does the same, changing into pajamas for the first time since his last night in his apartment and sighing happily. It takes a while, but eventually he falls asleep. When he wakes up, sometime in the middle of the next day, he staggers into the kitchen to find Hilbert in a similar state drinking coffee like its the only thing that matters. Shuffling to the coffeepot, he pours himself a cup, walking to the table and scratching his shoulder while being totally oblivious to how ridiculous he looks. His pajamas are far too big for him, the neck of his shirt exposing his left shoulder and a good portion of his collar bone while his pants hang off his hips precariously. He misses Hilbert’s expression when he sits down, falling asleep on the table before he can even drink his coffee. Hilbert looks at him in amusement, noting that mop that Eiffel calls his hair is longer and wavier than he realized, obscuring his face partially while he sleeps, lips parted as he sighs contentedly. He has long, thick eyelashes for a man, Hilbert thinks, long enough to brush his cheek when his eyes are closed. Unintentionally Hilbert finds himself studying Eiffel, noticing things that he missed before. The skin that he can see is littered with scars of varying severity, some thick and ropey and others the shining patch that comes from a burn. His left hand and arm are similarly scarred, his long fingers looking as if they had been broken before. Eiffel has clearly been through a lot of things, mostly violent ones, and he finds himself wondering if Eiffel even notices the scars anymore.

While he could happily stay there all day, he sees that its getting late and flicks Eiffel between the eyes to wake him up. He thrashes awake in a panic, chest heaving, only to see Hilbert’s deadpan expression which makes him kick him under the table, relaxing. He mutters, “Asshole,” as he rubs his eyes, snagging his now cold coffee off the table and chugging it, grimacing at the taste. “How long was I asleep?” His voice is gravelly with sleep still, but he seems to be at least slightly awake now. Hilbert replies with a shrug, the universal sign for “I dunno.” Eiffel sighs, standing up abruptly. “Well, shit. So much for making good progress today. I’m gonna go shower, if you haven’t already you’re gonna be out of hot water so I suggest you make your peace with that right now. See if theres anything near here we can stop to get gas at.” With that, Eiffel saunters off to take the longest shower Hilbert has ever seen; when he finally comes back he’s downright chipper and in clothes that fit him this time. While he’s been primping, Hilbert’s been busy looking at maps of the area to no avail- this particular safe house is fifteen miles away from the nearest gas station. Eiffel runs an exasperated hand over his face with a few choice words for Minkovski and her inability to be convenient.

“Well, complaining will not make trip go by faster. Unless you intend to live here forever, I suggest we go,” Hilbert says, standing up from where he was sitting and looking at Eiffel expectantly. “You’re right, come on. I’ll grab the stuff, you can get the car started.” Eiffel disappears into the bedrooms to make sure theres no trace of them left as Hilbert waits in the car rather impatiently. Eiffel comes out with his bags and throws them into the backseat, climbing into the car with a sigh. “Lets get this over with, shall we?” Eiffel’s smile is strained, but after a few minutes on the road he’s humming to himself as he drives which Hilbert quickly puts a stop to. Eiffel seems almost appalled at Hilbert’s demand that he stop being annoying, saying in a shocked tone, “Excuse me, sir. But last time I checked that was an important part of my glowing personality that so many people adore, so I have to refuse!” Hilbert’s voice is deadpan in his reply, “People enjoy that? Are you sure it isn’t more like: barely tolerate? Perhaps this is why so many people enjoy road trips alone, because you inevitably wind up wanting to strangle the other person.” “Well, you know studies show that if you and your significant other survive a roadtrip together without splitting up its a sign that your relationship is strong. So maybe roadtrips aren’t all bad.” Eiffel glances at Hilbert when he doesn’t say anything, and Eiffel has to reign in his emotions at the sight of Hilbert looking rather flustered, his mouth set in a deep frown and eyebrows drawn as he glares at the window with his ears and neck just a little red. 'Oh shit,’ he thinks to himself. 'He's adorable.’ He screams at himself silently to keep himself from saying something, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

They stop for gas, Hilbert ducking into the store to buy something to keep him from being bored on the long drive before getting back on the road. Eiffel can’t help but be nosy when he sees Hilbert reading, asking him with a bit of excitement, “Hey, whats that about?” “A man gets stranded on Mars, its actually rather scientifically accurate.” “Is it good?” “I am still reading it, so yes.” “Is the guy an astronaut, like from NASA, or is this a different kind of Sci-Fi?” “Eiffel.” “Yeeees?” Eiffel glances at him, looking embarrassed when he sees the irritation on his face. “Never mind, I’ll leave you alone. Sorry.” Hilbert starts to read again but stops, a realization hitting him suddenly. “Eiffel, why do you avoid reading?” Eiffel looks startled, and fakes an innocent expression. “I dunno what you’re talking about, Hilby.” “You lie, you do know exactly what I mean. You have avoided reading since you came into my bunker. No self-respecting investigator would miss the opportunity to look at the files I had on my desk in order to play with a paper weight and fountain pen, so why?” Eiffel stammers out an excuse, looking frantic. “W-well maybe I just really like pens and jellyfish, so what? I think you’re being ridiculous and I don’t like your tone.” Hilbert crosses his arms, shooting him a glare that Eiffel can feel without seeing. He finally gives in after a minute of feeling Hilbert’s glare boring into the side of his face, blurting out quickly with his voice cracking. “I’m dyslexic and I don’t like having to wear my reading glasses so I just don’t read at all. There, you happy?!” Hilbert sounds surprised. “You have reading glasses? Why do you not wear them?” Eiffel says quietly, his face blood red, “Cause they’re pink.” Hilbert turns his face away from him to hide his laughter, his shoulders shaking. After he’s calmed down he looks at Eiffel, whose expression of mortification does silly things to his head and stomach. After a moment he puts those thoughts away, poking Eiffel in the temple sharply to snap him out of his embarrassment, turning his expression into one of offense. “Rude! First you make fun of me, and now you abuse me?! And before you ask its not my fault they’re pink, Lovelace got them for me!” “I did not make fun, I merely asked a question. I am sure pink looks lovely. And don’t blame Lovelace for that, you should have bought them yourself. Why are you upset about being dyslexic? Is nothing to be embarrassed about, its a very common learning disorder. See no problem with it.” “I’m a grown man who has bright pink reading glasses and takes an hour to read a comic book.” Hilbert shrugs lightly, saying, “I am a grown man who likes cats more than people and is totally ignorant of pop culture references- I cannot understand any of them. I do not watch movies, or television, so.” Eiffel glances at him in shock, whispering, “You don’t watch movies?! Or TV?! Oh my God, Hilbert. Thats a tragedy. We gotta fix this. Next house we get to-” Eiffel looks in the rearview mirror, freezing abruptly. “We’re being followed. The next few minutes are gonna suck, but try not to hit your head.” Eiffel slams his foot on the accelerator as he jerks the steering wheel to the left, bracing himself by pressing his left knee against the door. The car behind them has to turn just as sharply to follow, proving Eiffel’s theory right. He’s grateful that this happened in a bustling metropolis, however, as it takes just five minutes of break-neck driving to shake them off. Hilbert is cool as a cucumber when its all said in done, though he’s secretly rather dizzy after all the sharp turns. Eiffel turns the car off when he feels like he’s lost them and grabs their things out of the backseat, including Hilbert’s briefcase. He gets out, motioning for Hilbert to do the same, his expression one of total concentration for once as he looks at the GPS display in his arm. “We’re gonna have to abandon the car. Lucky for us, that was the plan once we reached this safe house, so we’ll only have to worry about walking there. You ready for a nice jaunt?” His expression changes to concern when Hilbert just stands wordlessly with an angry expression rather than saying something or moving like he expected. “Hey, are you okay?” He moves closer to check on him, worried, then realizes suddenly what the problem is and cracks up. “I made you dizzy, didn’t I? You shoulda said something, let me help.” He puts his right arm around Hilbert’s waist to steady him, too tickled by his obvious irritation at the situation to notice how intimately close he is. Hilbert looks determinedly at everything but Eiffel’s face and recites the Periodic table in his head in order to distract himself from the way it feels to have his body pressed against his side. Eiffel is completely oblivious until he sees Hilbert’s only outward signs of embarrassment, his ears and neck just slightly red, and suddenly Eiffel is intensely aware of every place thats touching him. He lets go of him like he’s been burned and pretends that he needs something from his bag, his own face bright red. There is a small, awkward silence before Hilbert finally speaks, his face giving nothing away. “Where is the next place, exactly?” Eiffel’s voice sounds a little funny, but he speaks in a normal tone. “About four miles from here, so a decent walk. We’ll be taking the long way, of course, so it’ll be closer to six or seven miles before we get there.” Hilbert sighs slightly before grabbing a bag and his briefcase, looking at Eiffel expectantly. “Let’s get this over with.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets...violent. Sorry in advance.

Eiffel feels like he’s being watched, the hair on the back of his neck standing up as he glances over his shoulder compulsively. They’ve been walking for about twenty minutes, and he could have sworn that he’d shaken off whoever was following them about three blocks back. “Well, this isn’t good, Hilby.” He runs his hand through his hair anxiously, sighing and fidgeting with something in his hand as he tries not to panic. “Our only option at the moment is to go to the next safehouse, get the car there, and book it out of here. I would say something like, ‘Its a big city, even Kepler would have trouble finding us here!’ But that would be a lie. It’d just delay him, like, five minutes, tops. If we want to have any chance, we gotta get out of the city by tomorrow.” Hilbert frowns at him with a look that could either be irritation or concern, but Eiffel’s too distracted to tell the difference and his heart sinks to his stomach. “Eiffel, you seem particularly concerned that Kepler is the one who will find us. Why him, specifically? I am sure that Cutter has sent out other people to look for me.” Eiffel tries to smile lightheartedly but it comes out as a grimace, and while he talks he avoids looking Hilbert in the eyes. “Well, you know. The guys a sociopath, I know someone else could be after us but I’m worried about it being him the most. Who knows what he’d do to us.” His voice trails off as he grips his right shoulder in his hand, his knuckles white, before walking faster and leaving Hilbert to follow him.

Its nighttime before they finally get to the safehouse, a tiny house squeezed into an equally tiny plot of land in this massive city. Eiffel doesn’t bother going into the house, throwing their things into the car in the driveway and speeding off as soon as Hilbert gets in. He still can’t shake the feeling of something being off, and he doesn’t sleep when they get to the next safe house, or the one after that. Hilbert’s beginning to get worried, Eiffel seems like he’s fraying at the edges- jumping at every sound, but he seems to relax just a little bit when they’re just three safehouses away from the Base. Hilbert is in the back bedroom, trying to find a jacket he can actually fit in since it’s begun snowing as they’ve gotten farther north, and Eiffel is somewhere in the front of the house. He’s just found one, about to go ask Eiffel if he wanted to look for one to replace the rags he calls a jacket when both of them hear glass shattering at the same time. Hilbert immediately rushes toward the source of the sound only to nearly get knocked over by Eiffel, who doesn’t wait for him to recover as he drags him to the closet while talking quickly. “Kepler’s here. Theres a panel in the back wall of the closet, go through it and you’ll be at the back of the house from there you’ll need to go to these coordinates- I’ll meet you there.” Eiffel rips out the GPS display in his forearm, ignoring the damage it causes to his arm, and hands it to Hilbert. Theres only a second before Eiffel shoves him into the darkened, cramped space, but its just long enough for Hilbert to notice that Eiffel is absolutely terrified. Eiffel just hopes that Hilbert believes him, praying to anyone listening that Hera got his SOS as he knocks the doorknob off the closet door before breaking the glass window in the bedroom, knowing that the best chance for Hilbert to actually get away is through drawing their attention.

He tries to keep calm but its all he can do not to retch when he hears Kepler walk into the room, his voice as cheerful as someone seeing an old friend while his words make Eiffel wish he was dead. “Why, Eiffel! Look at you! You know, I thought that our last talk would have convinced you to make a career change, but obviously you’re just bound and determined to keep this up, huh? Damn, I like your spunk. Its a shame that I’m going to have to be even more…persuasive.. this time.” He had forgotten how quickly Kepler can move, frantically grabbing at Kepler’s arm when he’s picked up off his feet by his throat, his metal fingers squeezing hard enough to tear into his skin. He gets a lucky kick in, too, hearing a satisfying crack as his left foot connects with Kepler’s knee. All he gets in response is a knife dragged across his ribs and stomach followed by two swift punches in the same spot to knock the wind out of him as Kepler’s tightens his hand on his throat, whispering almost lovingly to him as he tries to weakly fight back. “I honestly believed that, after everything I did, you would quit. I see that Jacobi made you a pretty new arm, and guessing by how much my fucking knee hurts- which I’m sure you know you’ll pay for- a pretty new leg, huh? Well, how nice for you.” He holds Eiffel against the wall by putting a hand on his chest, releasing his grip on Eiffel’s throat so he can catch his breath, only to shove a knife into the space where his prosthetic meets his shoulder with a smile. Eiffel nearly blacks out as he wonders who was screaming, he hopes its not Hilbert, but Kepler holds off on twisting the knife and ripping through the already damaged tendons in his shoulder until his vision clears and Kepler’s sure he’ll be conscious through it. “Let me tell you, Douglas. I’m glad you’re so determined. Because this time,” he strokes Eiffel’s face, eyes cold, “this time I think I’m gonna take some things that I don’t believe Jacobi can easily replace. Maybe those pretty eyes of yours?” He punches Eiffel in the head, knocking him to the ground before stomping almost casually on his ribs until he feels them snap beneath his boots, smiling slightly. Kepler crouches down next to him, making a tsking noise when he sees Eiffel’s glazed over eyes as he grabs him by the hair, pulling him upright. He slaps him in the face to bring him back to consciousness, smiling when he sees Eiffel’s look of horror whenever he comes to with Kepler’s face before him, tears streaming down his face. Kepler takes his knife to his other shoulder, sawing through the muscle and ligaments until he sees Eiffel’s arm go limp, laughing at his hoarse screams.

“You know, it’s gonna be a shame to take your eyes. I kind of like the way they look when they’re afraid, but really. I think I’ll enjoy you screaming as you wonder what I could possibly do to you next.” He yanks out the knife thats lodged in Eiffel’s shoulder, humming quietly to himself, and presses the tip of the blade to the corner of Eiffel’s eye. The next moment Eiffel can’t really remember-he’s having trouble seeing- he just hears a kind of funny wet cracking sound but its all a rush as suddenly Kepler is gone and Hilbert is there instead and he’s worried because theres blood on Hilbert’s face but for some reason he can’t move his arms even though he really wants to check on him and God why does everything hurt so much-

Hilbert’s heart breaks when he sees the extent of Kepler’s handiwork, but he doesn’t know how to handle it when he sees the desperate relief and worry on Eiffel’s face. He steps over Kepler’s corpse to try and get Eiffel to his feet, looking stricken when Eiffel sobs in agony after his hands slip and dig into his ribs. Somehow they make it outside to the car, Kepler having been sent to handle them alone, and he tries to keep his hands from shaking as he sees how much blood is on him. Eiffel is hardly breathing, but he needs to keep him awake as long as possible so he starts asking him questions, desperately wracking his brain to think of anything to get Eiffel talking. “Eiffel, you know you never told me why you were so amazing? What made Minkovski keep you for so long, hmm?” He works as fast as he can, cutting off Eiffel’s shirt to see just how bad the damage is only to have to clench his jaw and bury his emotions when he sees the scars that cover nearly every inch of Eiffel’s upper body. When he speaks he’s glad his voice doesn’t shake, looking at Eiffel with concern when he takes too long to answer. “Douglas, don’t tell me that you made it up?” Eiffel’s voice is so soft he almost can’t hear it, but atleast he’s awake still. “I’m the best..damn..comms officer there is…” Hilbert laughs weakly, feeling along Eiffel’s ribcage to see how badly his ribs are broken and tallying up the number before sewing up the long, heavily bleeding cut that runs at a diagonal from his ribs to his hips. “So, Douglas, whats something you want more than anything, if you could have anything in the world.” Eiffel takes a moment to answer, his breathing ragged, but eventually he speaks. “A dog.. grew up in foster care, never could have one… really like dogs.” Hilbert shakes his head, saying in mock disdain in an attempt at levity. “Figures you would be a dog person. You have same personality: idiotically cheerful.” Eiffel’s laugh makes his heart squeeze and he stops in his tracks when he hears it before shaking himself out of it. From there, he has to sew the ragged edges of Eiffel’s left shoulder back together and is almost glad that the damage on his right shoulder is significantly less than his left. “Tell me something you’ve done that you haven’t bragged about already.” “…” He looks up to see Eiffel’s eyes looking glazed over and he quickly reaches up to touch his cheek, thankfully startling him enough that he stays conscious just a bit longer. After bandaging everything he checks to see how bad Eiffel’s concussion is, which by some miracle isn’t anywhere near as bad as it should have been. Eiffel just clenches his jaw when Hilbert finally feels comfortable getting him into the back seat of the car, going limp when Hilbert pushes his pain tolerance too far in the process. Hilbert just barely catches him in time, and tries not to feel horrifically guilty and failing as he carefully lowers him down and buckles him in.

Hilbert’s 90% sure he shouldn’t be driving so fast when its snowing, or in general, but he can’t help feeling vindicated when he sees his destination in what can only be record time. Getting Eiffel into the house is a test of his emotional control as he flinches every time Eiffel whimpers, and he’s so thankful that this house is set up with the bedroom close to the front door he almost cries. He makes sure Eiffel is as comfortable as he can make him before going off in search of some way to warm the frigid house. To his surprise, all thats apparent is a fireplace and tiny woodburning stove, so he opts to hoard every blanket in the house instead. Eiffel is still asleep when he walks back into the bedroom, so he sits in a chair in the corner after covering Eiffel with a few extra blankets before sleeping lightly. He’s awake in an instant when he hears Eiffel’s breathing change into what can only be the beginnings of a panic attack, quickly jumping up to check on him. Eiffel stares at him in panic, tears in his eyes as he struggles to get the words out. “I-I can’t feel my arm.” He closes his eyes tightly, hiccuping out a sob as Hilbert sits on the bed next to him. He takes Eiffel’s left hand in his as gently as possible and then presses on his palm, making Eiffel look at him in open mouthed shock. “You still can feel, though its likely vastly reduced. You just can’t move it at the moment, you could cause more damage if you try.” Eiffel’s chest heaves as he cries, this time in relief, and Hilbert doesn’t know what to do as he watches him helplessly. He starts to get up when Eiffel stops him, saying quickly, “Wait wait wait, don’t leave, please.” He looks at him in minor surprise and seeing his red eyes and desperate expression takes away anything he was planning to say. He sighs a little before saying, “Let me grab an extra blanket-” Eiffel cuts him off, obviously anxious to keep him in sight. “You can just share mine, please?” All his willpower flies out the window at that, and the next thing he knows he’s laying on his side next to Eiffel, who looks relieved as he fights sleeping for as long as possible. “Douglas, quit being childish. Go to sleep.” Eiffel smiles a little before giving in. Hilbert isn’t entirely sure at what point he fell asleep, just that when he wakes up he forgets how to breathe momentarily from realizing that at some point in the night Eiffel has his left leg entangled in his, effectively pinning him in place. As he’s trying to think of what he should do, Eiffel wakes up momentarily. He looks around quickly before seeing and feeling Hilbert next to him, and its with a little sigh of relief that he falls back asleep.

He’s honestly unsure of what to do, like at all, but in the moment he finds himself studying Eiffel once more. His breath catches when he finally looks at the scars on Eiffel’s lean torso, theres so many he can’t even begin to count them. Just like the glimpse he had gotten before, they all seem to have different causes. Theres small, hole-shaped ones, like it was made with something the size of a corkscrew; some are from burns of random severity, one particularly bad right below his ribcage on his right side. What’s most numerous, however, are the ones that could only be made with a blade of some kind. It looks as if Kepler- it had to have been Kepler, Hilbert couldn’t imagine anyone else doing this to Eiffel to such an extent- took his time torturing Eiffel at some point in the last five years. Theres one scar in particular that makes Hilbert wish for many impossible things once he sees it on Eiffel’s left wrist, standing out in start contrast to the others. Its jagged and curved as it runs up his arm before turning sharply, like whoever was doing this one had limited tools and mobility, and of all of them its the one that bothers him the most. He reaches over to touch it, as if he’s hoping that its not real, and with a start he realizes that he’s still covered in blood. None of it his, of course, but he refrains from touching Eiffel at all as best he can while wondering if he could disentangle Eiffel’s leg from his without waking him up.

He’s actually in the process of doing so when Eiffel wakes up, blinking at him owlishly. His voice sounds like a rasp, barely even loud enough for Hilbert to understand what he’s saying. “Whats wrong..?” Hilbert runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing when he remembers they’re still sticky with blood, and looks at Eiffel apologetically. “I have just realized that perhaps I should clean up. I do not believe sleeping for much longer like this is hygienic.” Eiffel looks worried, saying “Its not yours, is it? Kepler didn’t touch you, right?” He’s held together with stitches and bandages and covered in bruises and blood and yet he doesn’t even seem to care, he just wants to make sure Hilbert’s okay? Its only through intense willpower that Hilbert doesn’t just scoop him up in a hug right then and there and not let anyone come near him for the next century, his voice almost a growl when he finally speaks. “Niet, not mine. Move your leg, Eiffel, I’ll be right back.” Its with great reluctance that he moves, watching Hilbert leave and trying not to feel too anxious about it. He can’t even explain the relief he felt when Hilbert said it wasn’t his blood, but its not without some self-pity that he catalogues his own pains. Concussion? Check. Broken Ribs? Check. His shoulders effectively ruined? Seems like it. Based off of how his stomach feels, he’s guessing Kepler got a little knife happy there but he can’t really remember it. He’s wondering if Hilbert is mad about him trapping him in the closet when he finally returns, hair damp and frown firmly in place.

He pulls up a chair next to Eiffel and sets down a first aid kit and a couple of other random things before perching on the bed next to him with his legs crossed. “How does your head feel?” “Not that bad. Like a headache that won’t go away. Hey, Hilbert…” Hilbert ignores him entirely, pulling the blankets off of him to start replacing bandages. “Ah, wait! Don’t do that! Can’t you just leave it alone?!” Eiffel’s voice cracks when he raises it, frustrating him since he still can’t talk very loud while he tries and fails to move his right arm to stop Hilbert, who notices the tiny movement and glares at him full-force. “No, Eiffel. I cannot just 'leave it alone,’ you barely lived and now I have to make sure you don’t bleed out in your sleep. Quit straining yourself, you’ll cause more damage to your shoulder. And why would I, anyway, what is the problem?” Eiffel’s already weak voice goes even weaker. “I, um, don’t want you to see them.” Hilbert looks at him sharply when he hears Eiffel’s voice shake a little, and he starts cursing at himself in Russian as he reaches over to touch his wet cheek. “Douglas, look at me. It is fine.” Eiffel looks at him in disbelief and Hilbert moves his hand away, going back to work on changing his bandages. “Besides, I already saw them. Did you not wonder why you were shirtless?” Eiffel looks at himself in surprise, then looks humiliated. Hilbert sighs in exasperation. “Douglas, would you believe me if I said that they do not change how I already view you?” He’s not prepared for the look Eiffel gives him, one that makes him nearly say things he shouldn’t. “I already view you as annoyingly happy idiot. That has not changed, now you are annoyingly happy idiot with poor motor control.” Eiffel laughs, grinning for the first time since all of this happened, and Hilbert feels warm at the sight of it.

While he’s replacing the bandage on his stomach, Hilbert accidentally discovers that Eiffel is horribly, horribly ticklish. Even though each laugh is punctuated with a tiny 'ow,’ Hilbert is trying not to show his amusement by pretending to be professional. He also takes the time to get most of the blood off of Eiffel who complains that its too cold to do something like that while trying to wiggle away. “Eiffel, you are filthy. If you are going to insist that I sleep in the same bed as you then you will have to atleast do this much.” Eiffel perks up at the mention of Hilbert sleeping next to him again, but pouts childishly at the rest of the sentence. “How do you even have the energy to be difficult, you should be languishing in pain yet you are arguing about nonsense.” Eiffel nudges him with his left foot, nodding to it. “You can thank Lefty for that, I had Jacobi install two pumps, one for blood and one for a mild painkiller- nothing crazy. The blood pump has a sensor to detect the levels of adrenaline in my blood, and once they hit a certain level it starts storing it for…incidents..” his voice trails off momentarily before he continues. “The painkiller one is cause the seams where my bionics end tend to ache if I move around too much, and since I also had a heart-rate sensor installed for that one now I’m just in mild agony. So I’ve got that going for me, which is nice.”

Hilbert stares at him after he’s finished talking, his expression unreadable. After a long and confusing moment for Eiffel he finishes what he was doing and leaves abruptly, taking the kit with him. Eiffel looks baffled and anxious when he comes back from screaming obscenities in the car so Eiffel wouldn’t hear him, acting like nothing even happened. “Uhh, Hilbert?” “Yes, Eiffel?” “What was that all about?” “Nothing, merely needed to grab something out of the car.” “Oh. Okay. Well, come here and tell me a story, I’m bored.” Hilbert laughs to himself, laying down on his side facing Eiffel while being careful not to touch him. “I do not know any stories, so I am not sure I can be of much assistance.” Eiffel wishes he could scoot closer, but the way his stitches feel when he tries to move makes him quit after the third attempt with a sigh. “Tell me about you, then. I’m sure that’ll put me right to sleep.” Hilbert smiles at him then, just the tiniest amount, and Eiffel tries desperately to act cool but fails as he grins at him in delight.

Hilbert thinks for a moment, rubbing his jawline before speaking. “I told you I liked cats, yes? Well, when I was a child in Russia I had one. My little sister, Olga, found it half-drowned by the stream near our house and brought it to me. She was distraught, saying, "Dima, look what I found, do you think we can keep it and nurse it back to health?” I wasn’t very keen- the cat looked like it was so mean that someone tried to drown it- but I couldn’t say no to Olga.“ Eiffel interjects, saying teasingly, "Awww, you were so sweet! Lil’ baby Hilbert was a softy, huh?” Hilbert snorts, shooting a soft glare at Eiffel before continuing. “Anyway. After weeks of trying to get this bastard of a cat to full health it finally stopped attacking me every time it saw me and instead started jumping onto my shoulder so it could see where I was going every day. I ended up having that cat until I moved to America, actually.” Eiffel is hanging on every word, so when he’s done he laughs a little and shrugs, saying. “That is it, end of story. My other stories are less happy.” Eiffel nods, then asks curiously, “How come Olga called you Dima? I thought your name was Alexander?” He looks momentarily surprised, and a little uncomfortable before answering. “When I was a child my name was Dmitri Volodin. After I moved I changed my name to Alexander Hilbert, as I had no love for my old name after that. As I said, all my other stories are sad.” His only response is a thoughtful sound, staring at the ceiling contemplatively before looking at him again. “Why are they all sad?”

Hilbert frowns then, looking away for a moment but he eventually answers, realizing with a mental curse that he can’t tell Eiffel no. “By the time I moved to America, I was the last living member of my family. I wanted a fresh start, and made a name for myself as a virologist. Then Cutter caught wind of me, and promised me the chance to make a cure to the disease that took everyone I cared about only to twist it into the Decima virus.” Eiffel’s response is in a tone of no argument when he speaks after a quiet moment, saying demandingly, “Alright, well. I can’t move my arms without you yelling at me, so you’re just going to have to hug me yourself.” Hilbert cracks up in surprise, covering his face with his hands as he laughs. He takes a moment to recover before looking at Eiffel with a strange expression, almost like affection. “I do not believe that there is any way that will happen, Eiffel. Unless you want me to hug your legs, which happens to the only part of you that is not bleeding.” Eiffel looks at him eagerly, saying, “Is that an option?!” Hilbert laughs again, rubbing a hand over his face before sighing in defeat. He gently grabs Eiffel’s left hand in his, squeezing it a little before letting go. “There, you needy thing. Now, let me sleep. Not all of us have slept for almost a full day.” Hilbert lays on his back and seems to be asleep when he hears Eiffel’s quiet voice that sounds scared but is trying to hide it. “Hey, Hilbert? Do you think Kepler knows where we are?” Hilbert looks at him sharply, his voice so full of absolute, cold certainty that it sends a shiver down Eiffel’s spine. “You do not have to worry about Kepler ever again, Eiffel. Now, go to sleep.” Just as he’s falling asleep he feels Eiffel move slowly like he’s not trying to wake him up, and resists the urge to look when he feels his hand slip into his. After that, he doesn’t remember anything other than sleeping.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff, to soothe your wounded spirit.

Something feels a little off when Hilbert wakes up the next morning. Its not that Eiffel’s hand is in his, which makes him happier than he cares to admit, its not that Eiffel has somehow wiggled closer to him as he slept so he’s pressed against him, and while that does quite a few things to his head Hilbert is certain that the problem lies elsewhere. He looks at Eiffel to see if maybe something had changed in the night, and knows without a doubt that it’s Eiffel thats causing the feeling as soon as he notices that his hair is damp with sweat. His face is flushed as he sleeps, coming awake in confusion when Hilbert worriedly touches his cheek and forehead, testing his temperature and frowning. “Eiffel, tell me. Are you cold right now?” Eiffel just nods, closing his eyes and squeezing his hand just to remind himself that he can move his arm still. “I thought so. You have a fever, it seems that my attempts at stopping an infection have failed. We’ll have to leave today in order to keep it from getting out of hand, do you remember the location of your base?” Eiffel nods again, looking at him in drowsy confusion. “Don’t you have my GPS? It shoulda given you the right directions.” “I broke it.” “You broke it? We needed that!” “It was necessary at the time.” “What did you even do with it, that thing was super strong!” “Is not important, have other things to worry about at this time.”

He untangles himself from Eiffel, missing his disappointed expression as he gets up and starts moving around the room, gathering things to bring with them. Eiffel painfully sits upright, trying to hide how much it hurts to move when Hilbert glares at him. “You can’t carry me out of here, I can walk just fine, I promise. Doesn’t even hurt.” Hilbert just drops what he’s holding and stalks up to Eiffel, irritated but gentle when he puts a hand on his bandaged shoulder and pressing a little. Eiffel bites his lip to keep quiet, but that was all Hilbert needed to know that he was lying, forcing him to lay back down. “Do not be an idiot. What would be point of all the work I have put into keeping you alive only for you to kill yourself from stupidity? Just lay there and whine until I am done packing, then we can discuss your magical ability to heal in three days.” Eiffel sighs dramatically but is secretly a little relieved, dozing as Hilbert grabs everything that he may need for the next trip.

He wakes up when Hilbert takes the extra blankets off the bed, leaving him shivering and feeling a little naked. “Rude, I was using those.” Hilbert shrugs, unmoved by his pitiful expression. “You will likely thank me later.” He helps Eiffel sit up again, who protests that he can do it just fine while trying to keep from swaying. Hilbert has somehow found a jacket large enough to fit him without interfering with his bandages, which he carefully helps him into before addressing him. “I have no idea where I am going, so you’ll have to give me instructions from time to time. For now, we’ll worry about getting you into the car without tearing any stitches.” They fail on that count, Eiffel trying too hard to not drag Hilbert down and ending up having to apologize to an irate Hilbert when he realizes how much Eiffel’s bleeding during a quick glance over of his bandages. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought I had it, I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll be a perfect angel, I swear.” He grins at Hilbert’s dubious look, wincing a little as he fixes the broken stitches.

His head spins wildly as he sits upright in the passenger seat, his eyes half closed while he tries not to shiver. Thankfully Hilbert assumes that its because its snowing and not because of the fever that’s making him so cold, covering him in one of the blankets he took from the bed before getting into the car and driving. Eiffel wishes he had asked for Hilbert to recline the seat for him, glaring at his useless arm in irritation before hissing a little when they hit a pothole. Hilbert makes a face, and Eiffel cuts him off before he can apologize. “Its fine, really. This doesn’t even hold a candle to the other time, so don’t feel too bad.” Hilbert pauses before asking hesitantly, “What happened the other time?” Eiffel answers in a detached voice, Hilbert isn’t sure if its from the fever or his own need to distance himself from what happened.

“I guess I’m overdue for telling you about it. Welp, as you can see I’m about two and three quarters of a person, which did not happen over night. More like over a week? I remember all of it, it felt much longer than that. Anyway, whenever we got Maxwell’s message there was a stipulation: her and Jacobi would help us, but they were a package deal. So, me n’ Lovelace went, all bright eyed and eager to get the chance to stick it to Cutter. Only, thing is, Kepler knew what we were doing and Kepler being a sadist he decided to make it difficult. We got to them no problem, which was the sick part- he waited until we were in the final stretch before remotely setting off one of Jacobi’s bombs. The whole building came down, I just barely got Jacobi out of the way of a steel beam when the stupid thing landed on me.” He moves his jacket to point at the burn scar across his ribs before continuing, “I told him to catch up with Maxwell and Lovelace, the guy couldn’t do much with one hand and I was afraid that without him Maxwell would go back on her word. Lovelace got them out, of course, but she had to leave me with Kepler- it had just been the two of us and she needed to get them as far away as possible. I don’t blame her for leaving, its what needed to happen. Better me than all of them, you know? Minkovski says that I was missing for a week, but I dunno. You know how they say "Time flies when you’re having fun?” Well, lets just say it felt like an eternity. Fun fact about Kepler: he has a knife fetish and an intimate understanding of the level of pain the human body can endure without dying. I mean, not that I wasn’t trying really, really hard to, but he caught me when I tried- I used the edge of a metal table to do it, there was a little bent piece I had worked loose and… When he caught me, at that point I just lost it- I tried to piss him off as much as possible. I was hoping he’d get too mad and slip up, and then I’d be dead and the sound of a knife sharpening wouldn’t make me throw up anymore. But dammit, he would just laugh.“ Eiffel looks at the jagged scar on his wrist for a moment before continuing, his voice emotionless, "He took my arm off piece by piece, it took a day and a half. My leg took the rest of that day. He said it was because I was too stubborn still, I wouldn’t tell him anything at all, no matter what he did. The Unit is the only family I have, and we both knew what would happen if Cutter or Kepler found out where to find us. And when it was all said and done, and I was ruined beyond repair that bastard told Minkovski he had a gift for her and he, he made her meet him in some fucking park so she couldn’t shoot him and he just laughed and laughed when she saw what he did to me, and I should have had Jacobi shoot me in the head the moment I got stuck- he still could do that much at least- but I was so fucking stupid and I still wanted to live. God, when I was alone with him again this last time I couldn’t even move, I just kept telling myself it wouldn’t be so bad this time cause its not like he could do much more to me but then he talked about taking my eyes and I- Fuck, I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I’m sorry, I dunno why I can’t make myself shut up.” Hilbert pulls over, keeping himself under tight rein as he unbuckles Eiffel’s seatbelt and pulls him close, his hands tightening on Eiffel’s jacket when he hears him choke out a sob. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say all of that, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry..” Hilbert doesn’t say anything, just holds him as tightly as he can without hurting him as the younger man cries, only letting go when he feels Eiffel lean against him after a while, his breathing slow. He tries to get the sleeping Eiffel as comfortable as he can before driving again, not even noticing how tense he was until he realizes he needs to wake up Eiffel to figure out where the base is. Its with incredible reluctance that he does so, tapping on the back of Eiffel’s hand to get his attention, and Eiffel wakes up confused and still very flushed, coughing a little, but he seems lucid. He directs Hilbert to the base which is set far, far into the woods and surrounded by an electric fence.

The building itself is unremarkable, three stories of concrete and a few satellite buildings around it. Eiffel sits up a little more when they drive up to the gate and the guard takes one look at him before waving them through. Within two minutes a woman in one of the most pristine military uniforms Hilbert has ever seen comes out of the main building, looking frantic. She throws open the car door to see Eiffel smile weakly at her, and she heaves a massive sigh of relief. “Hey, Minkovski.” “You look like shit, Doug.” “It’s funny you say that, because I feel like shit. Hilbert, in case you haven’t guessed this is Commander Minkovski.” Eiffel is too busy looking at Minkovski to see the absolutely ice-cold glare Hilbert gives her before getting out of the car. Minkovski looks even more worried, but has Eiffel and Hilbert brought to the infirmary. Eiffel fusses at them for making him go, protesting for most of the way before Hilbert flicks his ear, making him shut up long enough for Hilbert to speak. “Stop being a child, you know as well as I do that you are quite ill. While they are making sure you don’t die from dramatics I will be speaking to Minkovski.” He gives her a look that tells her their conversation isn’t up for discussion before seeing a chagrined Eiffel to the infirmary. As soon as he’s through the door, Hilbert turns on her. “I suggest you find a quiet place to have this conversation, Commander.” Minkovski just nods coolly, taking them to her soundproofed office and shutting the door before looking at him. “What did you want to talk about, Doctor?”

Hilbert’s voice is venomous. “You are an idiot. What the hell do you think you are doing? You send a man to fetch some nobody from Cutter, even after Cutter’s pet rips his arm and half his leg from his body- have you even seen all of his scars, did you even consider what could happen? You just send him back in and damn what it does to him, is that it? He speaks so highly of you, but I wonder if you even care.” Minkovski bristles at his tone. “First of all: how fucking dare you say I don’t care! If I had any other choice I would have sent someone else, but I didn’t have a choice, there was no one but him! And it’s killed me for doing that, because unlike you I was the one who saw all the things Kepler did to him when they were still bleeding. So don’t come at me and say I don’t care. Second of all: what was I supposed to do, we needed you, someone had to get you-” Hilbert cuts her off, his expression broaching no argument. “You had a choice. You had the option to just ignore me, but you didn’t like it because you kept telling yourself that I am worth the trouble. I will be frank, Minkovski. No one is worth Douglas Eiffel, under no circumstances. Not you, not the people here, and especially not me. I have never been, and never will be, worth the agony you have just put him through.”

She wants to be angry, more than anything she wants to get mad and argue with him, but she can’t fight what she already knows: that Doug should never have gone. Instead, she asks something thats been on her mind. “We received an SOS from one of the safehouses, but it was gone before we could pinpoint a location. What happened?” “Kepler had caught up with us. Eiffel thought that keeping him distracted would allow me to get away.” He says, sounding bitter. “The SOS was sent from Eiffel’s GPS, what happened to it? It only would have stopped if it was broken.” He looks at her with an expression of such disdain it startles her. “I used it to beat Kepler’s head in. You may want to go recover the body, it was in the fourth to last safehouse if I remember correctly.” When their gazes meet they both come to an understanding of sorts, Minkovski looking maliciously satisfied at the news. “Good, I hope it hurt. Hilbert, listen-” she says, pleadingly, “You’re right about Eiffel, but wrong about you. We do need you, you aren’t some nobody scientist thats a dime a dozen, you’re one of the world’s finest virologists. Please, would you consider-” He holds up a hand to stop her, saying irritably, “Have already told Eiffel I would work on provisional basis. Will reserve the right to change my mind.” Minkovski looks so relieved it takes him aback before realizing the source of it, she was scared she had put Eiffel through all of that only to have Hilbert refuse to work for them. “If you will excuse me, Commander. I believe we can discuss the terms later.” Minkovski nods and he leaves for the infirmary, stopping on the threshold when he sees the picture in front of him. Eiffel is arguing with three different people and a hologram, all of them working on something to do with him while he sits on the exam bed, hooked up to an IV with a saline drip. Jacobi’s removed his right arm to repair the damage done to it when Eiffel ripped out the GPS, yelling at him for breaking his toys while Maxwell is checking on his leg, shouting up at him for letting himself get caught. The hologram is running what must be a diagnostics program on his bionics while chiding him for getting hurt. The doctor who is supposed to be getting Eiffel to rest is arguing with all of them, but they go quiet when Eiffel sees him at the door and says happily, “Hilbert! Look at this, do you see this three-ring circus they’ve got going on here? Its ridiculous, they act like I’m gonna drop dead at any second. Jacobi, Maxwell, you two remember Hilbert? And Hilbert, this is Hera, Hera, meet Hilbert.”

Hilbert walks into the room as they exchange a nervous glance before looking at him, which he returns as a glare only when Eiffel isn’t looking. The next glance they share is of the more mischievous type. Jacobi speaks first, in a drawl. “Heey, Hilbert.” Maxwell follows in a dry tone. “Long time no see.” Hera waves politely, saying, “Nice to meet you, Doctor Hilbert.” Eiffel grins, swinging his right leg unconsciously. “Man, Hilbert, you shoulda heard the things Jacobi said about you before I left. He was like ‘Hilberts an emotionless robot and super mean, I think even the super-great-at-his-job Eiffel will have trouble getting him to join the Avengers.’ How stupid, right? You’re super nice, I don’t even know where he got the idea you’re mean from.” Hilbert looks at him in concern, missing the looks he’s getting from Jacobi and Maxwell who are smothering their giggles behind their hands as Hera watches with interest. “Eiffel, are you on something? You seem a little… giddy.” The doctor answers for him, saying “Yeah, he’s on a pretty solid painkiller- Kid basically had Children’s Motrin running through him up until now, I don’t even know how he was conscious when he came in. Its safe to say that combined with his high temperature, he’s got a total lack of a filter. Not that he ever had one to begin with. I’m just about done with him, though, so if you want to join Thing One and Thing Two you can wait here.” Hilbert shoots another glare at them when he finally notices the delighted glances they’re giving him, which just makes them act more ridiculous. Hera just grins at him the whole time, figuring out why Eiffel seemed so happy when he got back.

While they’re doing that Eiffel is being checked by the doctor, and when he asks for Eiffel to take a deep breath he dissolves into painful, lung wracking coughs. They all look at him in concern but the doctor just waves a dismissive hand at their worry. “Eiffel, you’ve been straining yourself too much. Hilbert, has he been running around in the cold, he really shouldn’t anymore-” Eiffel cuts him off, his voice raspy and expression uncharacteristically angry. “I’m fine, doc. Its just been cold out, its winter after all. Not to mention, half of my ribs are broken, so that likely has a lot to do with it. Right?” The doctor opens his mouth to say something but Eiffel cuts him off, his voice cold. “Right?” When he nods Eiffel’s expression clears like nothing had even happened, and the doctor sighs in defeat before turning to Hilbert, Jacobi, Maxwell while Hera continues working on her tests. “Well, he needs to rest now, so if one of you is feeling generous you can take him to his apartment; he’s as stable as I can make him.” He takes out the now done IV and looks at them expectantly. Jacobi and Maxwell shrug simultaneously, saying at the same time, “Oh, I’ve got too much to do with this arm- I have to work on something for Hera, sorry- Hey Hilbert, can you do it?” They finish in unison before looking at his confused, irritated expression innocently. The doctor says in a deadpan as he walks out, “Well, guess its your job now. Its on the second floor, number 5. Let me know if you need anything.” Eiffel puts a hand on his shoulder when Hilbert approaches him, saying, “Hilbert, they took my arm so I’m gonna be a little unsteady but don’t worry, I’m used to it.” He beams at him as he hops off the exam table, immediately swaying before Hilbert steadies him with a long-suffering sigh as Eiffel wraps his arm around his shoulder, leaning against him. “Hey, Hilbert, the doc says that I’ll be able to move my arm normally after a few days, the damage wasn’t as bad as I thought it was- isn’t that great?” Hilbert nods, wrapping his arm around Eiffel’s waist as Eiffel babbles on, talking about how glad he is about this, or that, or whatever he sees on the way to his apartment. After opening the door Hilbert finds himself in a room that matches Eiffel perfectly. Records stacked in a corner, DVDs arranged randomly on a shelf, clothes thrown on the surprisingly nice couch, and the side table has ring stains from what can only be coffee. Hilbert wants to laugh at it, the random collection of memorabilia on a bookshelf and posters plastered on every open surface, but he refrains when he glances at the pure happiness he sees on Eiffel’s face as they walk in.

Eiffel points at a door thats covered in stickers, “Thats my bedroom, would you mind?” Hilbert tries not to let himself think too hard on what he’s doing when he helps Eiffel into his bedroom, which to his shock is kind of neat. Well, neater. The king sized-bed is buried under a collection of heavy blankets and pillows that look an awful lot like a nest to his amusement, and the only decoration is the heavy curtains that block sunlight. Before he can ask Eiffel answers his question, saying, “I like to keep my room just for sleeping, with no distractions. Otherwise I toss and turn all night.” He feels surprised, the last few nights Eiffel slept just fine, only waking up every now and then to make sure he was still there. He walks Eiffel to the bed, where Eiffel immediately flops onto his back with a grateful, satisfied sigh.

He turns to leave when Eiffel says, too quickly to sound casual, “Wait, don’t you have to make sure I don’t die in my sleep or something??” Hilbert looks at him then, and is suddenly struck by the urge to tease him at the pleading look on his face. “Ah, you’re right. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Eiffel looks panicked, trying not to sound desperate when he speaks. “Nooo, you gotta stay in here otherwise I could be dead and you wouldn’t even know it, don’t you know anything? I thought you were a doctor!” Hilbert hides his smile by turning away until he can turn to Eiffel with no expression. “Alright, I’ll bring in a chair. Did you want anything before I go?” Eiffel sighs dramatically, shaking his head before sitting up. Hilbert leaves, taking a moment to compose himself before going back in with a kitchen chair to sit in. Eiffel’s somehow managed to change into pajamas, just a pair of sleeping pants since he can’t lift his arm, and he’s apparently pouting when he comes back in. Hilbert sticks to his guns, though, sitting the chair close enough to prop his feet on the bed but just far enough from where Eiffel is laying to keep from touching him. Eiffel looks at him in disgust, obviously hoping the silent treatment would break him, but Hilbert just crosses his arms and closes his eyes. Eiffel breaks first, just as he thought he would, saying petulantly, “Hilbert, I can’t sleep.” He opens one eye to look at him, keeping his face expressionless. “Oh? And why is that?” Eiffel fidgets before sighing. “Cause its cold.” “You are laying on top of the blankets.” “Cause its hot.” “Eiffel, that doesn’t make any sense.” “Well, its cause I’m sick and need someone to take care of me but apparently you just want me to die of exposure cause you don’t even have the decency to share your body heat. So.” Hilbert runs a hand over his face and stops over his mouth to hide his smile, raising an eyebrow at Eiffel when he gets his expression under control. “Is that so?” Eiffel nods like it makes complete sense and Hilbert sighs, standing up.

Eiffel grins victoriously when Hilbert finally gets into bed and begins to make himself comfortable, getting rid of all but one of the pillows on his side. Eiffel makes a face. “Theres no accounting for taste, I see.” “Apparently not. Is it really necessary to have your bed this cluttered?” “Yes, yes it is.” Hilbert lays on his back, laying the arm farthest from Eiffel under his head. “I do not see why, but to each their own I suppose.” He looks at Eiffel through half-closed eyes when he feels him scoot closer, noting the contented expression on his face with pleasure and feeling his heart speed up when he feels Eiffel’s bare skin pressed against his arm. He lays awake for a while, Eiffel having fallen asleep almost immediately to his amusement. He’s not entirely sure what time it is when he decides to sleep, since theres no clock anywhere in the room. Eiffel’s got his leg tangled in his, so it seems that his only option is to finally get some sleep- not that he really minds.

Eiffel wakes up before he does for once, shamelessly taking a moment to study him as he entwines his fingers in his. Hilbert sleeps lightly, he knows, so he’s careful not to move too much in case he wakes up as he squeezes his hand, committing to memory the way his mouth is shaped or how his hair looks like he constantly runs his fingers through it. He wishes that he could pick things up that weighed more than a pair of flannel sleeping pants, just so he could have a chance to look at the little scars he can feel on Hilbert’s fingers. He sighs, disappointed, and triggers a coughing fit- feeling a little upset at the ill timing of it. Hilbert’s awake the moment he feels Eiffel tense, much to Eiffel’s regret, and he looks at him with those beautiful brown eyes and Eiffel really, really wishes he wasn’t in a ton of pain so he can appreciate them the way they needed to be. He pats Hilbert’s hand lightly while he catches his breath, his lungs wheezing. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just got something caught in my throat.” Hilbert looks disbelieving. “You had a similar cough yesterday. Something to do with the cold?” Hilbert’s voice is rough with sleep, which Eiffel has to ignore if he wants to have a sensible conversation without making a fool of himself. “Yeah, just have asthma, its fine. Its only bad when its cold.” Hilbert frowns, covering him with a blanket as he gets up and out of bed, much to Eiffel’s disappointment. “You should have said something, idiot. Do you want me to get you anything?” Eiffel looks eagerly at him. “Coffee.” Hilbert nods and leaves, Eiffel sitting up and propping himself up with as many pillows as he can as he tries to reach up high enough to untangle his hair, which Hilbert walks in on just as he’s getting irritated.

He hands him his coffee with a sigh before sitting next to him and moving so Eiffel’s back is facing him. Eiffel feels his face heat up when Hilbert gently begins to untangle his hair with his fingers, feeling a shiver go down his spine at the intimacy of it. He tries to act casual, saying, “Uh, Hilbert? You know how to do hair?,” while feeling his heart pound a mile a minute. He’s close enough to feel Hilbert’s voice rumble in his chest, which almost makes him miss his answer when his mind goes completely blank. “I had younger sister, remember? She could never do her hair like she wanted, so I had my older brother’s wife teach me how to do it. Don’t worry, I won’t braid it unless you want me to.” Eiffel laughs, a bit lightheaded, and when Hilbert is done he leans back against him unconsciously. Hilbert tenses a little, not certain what he should do whenever Eiffel lays his head back onto his shoulder, completely asleep in moments and oblivious to the mug that clatters to the floor. Hilbert laughs a little, knowing that while its normal to sleep a lot when you’re sick or injured this is a bit much, its like he hasn’t slept in years and is only now catching up. Hilbert’s heartrate goes up exponentially when he feels Eiffel shift so he can bury his face in his neck while curling up in his lap, and he starts to wonder if its possible to die from this as he feels his face flush. He’s glad Eiffel can sleep through a parade though while he makes himself comfortable, adjusting so he can lean his back against the headboard while still holding Eiffel tentatively. He looks up in surprise when the bedroom door opens, Minkovski looking back at him in shock. “Oh, I, uh, came in to get Eiffel. I didn’t know you were here.”

His almost angry, embarrassed expression at the situation he finds himself in makes her snort in laughter, doubling over as she cackles. Eiffel stirs a little and Hilbert looks panicked as he feels Eiffel’s breath against his neck, before looking at Minkovski for help, unable to handle much more of this. Minkovski sees his pleading expression and kindly decides to help him untangle himself from Eiffel, chuckling to herself before saying in a thoughtful tone. “I’m surprised that he’s asleep. You know, Eiffel’s an insomniac. He has been since Kepler got to him, he normally sleeps just a couple of hours a night. Has he been sleeping this hard the whole time?” Hilbert shrugs, wishing that his face wasn’t flushed as he speaks. “Only after I started staying the night with him.” Minkovski raises a suggestive eyebrow at him and he says irritably, “Not like that, he was scared of being alone.” She finds herself a little baffled at the stark difference between the man she met yesterday and the man she’s speaking to now. Its like he’s a totally different person around Eiffel, and she feels a bit of warmth towards him for that. She pats him roughly on the shoulder with a grin, and he interprets her expression correctly, his frown deepening as he blushes harder. She says cheerfully, thoroughly enjoying herself, “Well, Hilbert, Eiffel needs to go to Jacobi to get his arm put back on, so would you do me a solid and bring him? You may have to wake him up like Sleeping Beauty, though, it seems like he’s pretty deeply asleep.” Hilbert’s furiously embarrassed expression made that worth it, she thinks, going immediately to Jacobi’s lab to tell him and Maxwell about what she’s learned.

When Hilbert arrives with Eiffel in tow, Jacobi and Maxwell had just finished taking bets on when they would get together. They don’t actually say much, other than a quick hello, but whenever Eiffel isn’t paying attention they flash Hilbert a knowing look to watch him squirm. Eiffel picks up that something is off but gets distracted when Jacobi attaches the nerves in his arm, yelping in surprise. “Hey, warn me next time!” Jacobi grins maliciously, saying, “Thats what you get for damaging my Magnum Opus. Hey, Maxwell, toss me that flat-head, would you?” He catches it out of the air when she pitches it at his head from her desk, turning to finish tightening the last few screws. “There ya go, Eiffel. Good as new. The doctor says that while you need to hold off on using your left arm, your right should be okay as long you don’t push it.” He flicks Eiffel on the nose before winking at Hilbert as he walks away. Eiffel looks at Hilbert in excitement, hopping off the workbench and looking like he wants to say something when Maxwell stops him. “Hey, Eiffel. Theres another thing Jacobi forgot to mention.” She puts a sling around his neck before he can do anything, trapping his left arm in it with surprising speed. Eiffel looks at Hilbert pleadingly, but he just shrugs and lets the woman do her job, keeping his face neutral as his brain rambles about how cute Eiffel is when he’s upset. “Sorry, Eiffel. Doctor’s orders.” She says drily, winking at him before walking back to her desk, Eiffel complaining under his breath as he leaves the lab. Hilbert follows, smiling, as Eiffel mutters to himself about something, annoyed at being reduced to using one arm again. Eiffel stops in front of his room, looking at Hilbert in despair. “I’m gonna go languish until I die, so if you wanna go explore the base or something you can.” Hilbert looks at him in affectionate exasperation before nodding, saying over his shoulder as he leaves, “Have fun.”

When he comes back a few hours later, he knocks on the door to Eiffel’s apartment only to get no answer, so he lets himself in without really thinking about it. He opens the door to Eiffel’s bedroom to ask him if he wants to go eat when he hears Eiffel yelp just before getting hit in the face by one of Eiffel’s many pillows. He looks at him in confusion, but he’s hiding behind a blanket so he can’t see him. “Eiffel? What on earth is wrong with you?” He hears a muffled “Go awaaay,” and frankly curiosity wins over any thoughts of listening. He yanks the blanket off of him, Eiffel protesting the whole time and fighting wildly, but he ends up winning only to have to cover his face with his hands, laughing. Eiffel’s hair is disheveled, half falling over his eyes as his face turns nearly the same vibrant shade of pink as the glasses askew on his face.

Eiffel’s voice cracks in embarrassment as he starts yelling at him, throwing things to punctuate each sentence. “Aggh this is why I wanted you to go away, you ass! I knew you’d laugh at me!” Hilbert holds up his hands in surrender, saying lightly. “How could I not? Your expression was priceless, did not intend to insult you.” He’s still laughing as he picks up the book that was thrown at him, noting with surprise that its the same one he was reading on the way here. Eiffel snatches it out of his hands, hiding it under a pillow as if that will make Hilbert forget about it before fixing his glasses with as much dignity as he can muster. Hilbert watches him fondly before quickly schooling his face to cool humor when Eiffel turns to look at him, making quite possibly one of the cutest faces he’s seen yet: pouting with an embarrassed expression while he glances up at Hilbert over the frames of his glasses every few seconds, playing with a loose thread on one of the blankets he’s under. Hilbert feels his heart squeeze tightly, and hopes it doesn’t show when he speaks. “I thought you hated to read?” Eiffel makes a face at the blanket instead of looking at him, saying begrudgingly, “You made it sound like a really cool book. I thought maybe I’d give it a try.” 'Oh, Goddammit, he’s too fucking cute,’ Hilbert thinks, and he can’t stop himself from tucking a loose bit of hair behind Eiffel’s ear. “You will have to let me know if you like it, then. And I was right. The pink is lovely.” He stands up before he does or says anything else, leaving quickly to go dunk his head in a sink or something to cool off. It was really unfair how cute Eiffel was- he only had so much self control.

Things begin to fall into a pattern for them, with Hilbert staying with Eiffel overnight before going to work in his new lab while Eiffel goes to physical therapy and spends time hanging out with Hera. In the evenings Eiffel makes him watch some tacky show or movie while they eat, Hilbert protesting just for the sake of seeing Eiffel get aggravated and watching him rant, loving the way he gets animated as he talks and sometimes pretending to like something to see him light up in excitement. Hilbert’s in his lab when Minkovski comes to see him, looking a little anxious. “Ah, Minkovski. What is the matter, you look rather ill.” She looks at him in surprise, “Oh, well, thats what I came here for. I was wondering, is there any chance you’ve maybe come up with a way to help someone who lived through Decima breathe?” He shakes his head, looking at her with a frown. “Niet, the scar tissue in lungs would be permanent.” Minkovski sighs, disappointed. “Damn.” He’s curious now, asking, “Why do you want something like that?” Minkovski looks a little surprised, like she didn’t think he wouldn’t already know. “Cause I’m starting to get a little worried, Eiffel’s coughing is putting a serious strain on him. I’m sure you’ve noticed how much more he’s been coughing, and I know it could be worse- it was bad when he first got infected- but I was hoping you’d have something just to make it easier on him. Jesus, Hilbert, are you okay? You look like someone just stepped on your grave.” Hilbert reminds himself to keep his face blank as he feels his heart sink into the floor. “I am fine, Minkovski. Merely remembered I left something important in my rooms. Excuse me, I need to go.” Minkovski looks at him in utter confusion, staring at his back as he leaves. She scrubs a hand through her hair, sighing, and walks to her office, going back to work. 

Its two hours later, when she’s elbows deep in files that Eiffel walks in. “Hey, Minkovski. Have you seen Hilbert? We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today, and I don’t think he’s in his room since the door is locked but I can’t find him anywhere.” She looks at him in surprise. “I haven’t seen him since I spoke to him in his lab, that was -what- two hours ago?” Eiffel perches on the arm of a chair, asking curiously, “What did you guys talk about?” She shrugs dismissively. “Nothing major. Just wanted to know if he had anything that could reduce your coughing fits, since he was the one who made Decima.” Its as she’s saying it that she sees the look of horror cross Eiffel’s face, and her eyes widen as she realizes what she’s done. “Ooooh, shit. Oh, fuck. Eiffel, I fucked up. I fucked up baaad. You never told him, did you?” Eiffel just gets up in a rush and runs out without saying anything, running the whole way to Hilbert’s room before picking the lock on Hilbert’s door and bursting in only to see Hilbert sitting on his couch, holding a glass in his hand. He looks at Eiffel with that blank expression that he hates so much before he notices that theres a half-empty bottle of vodka on the floor by his feet and Hilbert’s face is flushed. “Hilbert… are you drunk?” Hilbert just shrugs, saying defensively, “I am Russian, is not crime to drink.” Eiffel shakes his head slowly, “Thats not what I asked. How much have you had?” Hilbert sighs in frustration. “I have had enough, Eiffel. Does that answer your question? Go away.” Eiffel tries not to let his cold tone hurt too much, sitting on the arm of the couch across from him and making it clear he plans to stay. Hilbert makes a tsking sound, getting up and stalking into his bedroom while taking the bottle with him, slamming the door behind him. Eiffel follows doggedly, throwing open the door and snatching the bottle away from him in irritation before he can drink more. Hilbert shoots him a glare before sitting on the edge of his bed, sighing. “Eiffel, go away. Why do you even want to be here?” “Because I care about you and you’ve got me worried.” Hilbert scoffs. “You do not even know me. You are so persistent, always doing what you want without think what it does to other people. Well, let me tell you what I have done, and maybe you will realize why I am telling you to leave.” He starts counting on his fingers. “I have, under my own volition, created a disease that has killed over ten thousand people. I did it because I was afraid of dying, so I condemned thousands to die in my stead. As soon as I had the chance to I beat a man’s head in. Did you not wonder why I told you Kepler would not be following us? Jacobi warned you that I was a cold, emotionless man. It is not my fault that you didn’t listen.” He glares at him to hammer home the point. “There is no side of me worth caring about; I spent my years working for Cutter making the disease that causes you to struggle to breathe, that has filled your lungs with scar tissue and caused you pain. Get out, Eiffel. Forget about caring about me and leave.” He sounds mocking, like he’s putting Eiffel down for being stupid enough to like him. Eiffel is looking at him, he can feel it, but he’s too far into his self-hatred to look at those beautiful eyes and see how much Eiffel must hate him. 

Eiffel’s voice shakes in anger. “You are the biggest idiot I have ever met. Did it not occur to you that I knew all of that already? Hello, I work for an INTELLIGENCE AGENCY. THATS MY JOB.” Eiffel’s words and the fact that he’s shouting now which makes Hilbert look at him in shock. “I knew all that shit loooong before I met you! God, even Kepler fuckin’ told me about you, saying that he would send me to you for testing- of fucking course I knew everything about you! But I still liked you, you stupid Russian! I liked your stupid jellyfish paperweight, and your stupid fountain pen, and your stupid fuckin’ face, and!” He makes a frustrated noise, oblivious to the way Hilbert’s looking at him. “You’re so stupid, why would you not realize that I DON’T CARE. I don’t! So quit being stupid and acting like this is some big horrible secret and just-” his anger dissipates and his shoulders slump, looking at Hilbert pleadingly. “Dammit, just come with me to the animal shelter and we can find me the perfect dog or we could stay here and watch a movie or something, I dunno, I just don’t want you to push me away. I don’t think I could handle it.” He looks at Hilbert then, whose staring at him with a vulnerable, tentatively hopeful expression. “Alexander, did you really think I’d hate you?” He nods a little, still looking at him almost in awe. Eiffel sighs, walking up and pinching his cheek with one hand, smiling at his immediate shock and irritation. “Thats what you get for being stupid. Of course I’d never hate you, Alexander. Good lord, you smell like bad decisions. Do you wanna just stay here?” Hilbert’s mouth tightens a little, and he says slowly, “Perhaps it would be better if I stayed alone tonight.” He holds his hands up soothingly when Eiffel opens his mouth to protest. “You have nothing to worry about, will merely be sleeping off alcohol. But it would be best if I were alone.” Eiffel pouts, looking a little hurt. “Why? Is it because you’re upset with me?” Hilbert runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “Niet, not upset. I, ah, have poor impulse control when I am drunk. Would not like to do anything untoward.” Eiffel shrugs lightly. “Thats not a big deal. Just try not to punch me.” Hilbert gives him a look with such intensity that his knees nearly give out. “That is not what I am worried about.” Eiffel lets out a weak, “Oh,” and Hilbert looks away, thinking that Eiffel would leave after that and instead jumping in surprise when he feels Eiffel touch his shoulder tentatively. “Um, if you don’t mind, I do think I’ll stay.” Eiffel’s blushing to the roots of his hair, not looking at Hilbert until he speaks in a serious tone. “I am quite drunk, you know.” “Yeah, I know.” “Are you sure you want to stay here?” Eiffel nods, gasping a little when Hilbert pulls him into his lap, covering his mouth with his as he tangles his fingers in his hair. Its all Eiffel can do to remember to breathe when he feel’s Hilbert’s fingers dig into his hips, whining a little when he bites his bottom lip. He returns the favor, laughing a little breathlessly when Hilbert’s hands spasm a little and pulls him closer. He runs his hands underneath Hilbert’s shirt, feeling him shiver at the cold touch of metal before wrapping his arm around his waist and pulling away. They look at each other, flushed and trying to catch their breath. Hilbert looks dazed, like he can’t even imagine that this is real, and Eiffel kisses him gently to remind him he’s still there. After thinking about it, he makes the saintly decision to stop there for the night but not before kissing him silly again. He pushes him onto his back, straddling him momentarily before flopping down beside him with a grin at his frustrated expression. “Sorry, but I think it’d be morally wrong to take advantage of you while you’re drunk.” Hilbert growls a little before pulling him close, tangling his legs with his. “Fine. You are the one who made that decision, so do not pout at me if you change your mind.” Hilbert’s looking at him with a completely open expression of affection, which makes Eiffel’s heart sing as he tries to get even closer. Hilbert just laughs at his attempt, wrapping his arms around him before sighing contentedly, to all appearances falling asleep.

The next morning Hilbert feels like shit, and the night before is foggy. Its only when he looks at Eiffel that he starts to remember, and his overwhelming embarrassment makes him cover his face with his hands. He hears Eiffel’s voice, sounding rather concerned. “Alexander?” He was pretty sure his heart couldn’t go any faster, but dammit hearing him say his name was doing things to him. He grumbles out a muffled, “Yes?” “What are you doing?” “Nothing.” Eiffel laughs, yanking his hands of his face to see him, feeling himself melt at the sight of him looking embarrassed. “Whats wrong, Sasha?” Hilbert makes a little choking noise and turns even more red, looking at him in shock. “Where did you even learn that?!” Eiffel is utterly delighted at his reaction, beaming. “I had Hera look it up. As well as a few other choice phrases.” He’s looking at him in awe again, like he still can’t believe whats going on around him, and Eiffel can’t resist kissing him. “So, why are you being all cute and embarrassed this early in the-” he checks the clock in his arm, “afternoon?” Hilbert looks away before answering, mortified. “Thought maybe was dream, did not expect to actually wake up and have it be real.” Eiffel grins, wrapping his leg over his before hugging him tightly, nuzzling into his hair. “Nah, I’m pretty real, last time I checked. Unless you’re counting my metal bits.” He laughs then, smiling at him with open affection. “I am counting all of you. You seem pretty real, especially since your leg is quite heavy.” “Its a necessary evil. I don’t want you to get up yet, so I gotta keep ya down while I can.” “Or you could just ask.” Eiffel scoffs. “No, I could not. Its waaay more fun this way, you’re lucky I didn’t bring out the big guns.” “I will keep that in mind, Douglas.” Eiffel beams at the use of his name, running his fingers through his hair and pulling him in for a kiss. He tries not to laugh when he feels him shiver, wrapping an arm around his lower back to press closer.

Hilbert looks a bit drunk when he finally pulls up for air, and he quickly kisses him one more time just because he can. He makes a growling sound, looking fondly exasperated. “How am I supposed to think if you continue to do that?” “I dunno, not my problem. I guess I’ll just have to be the brains for the two of us.” He deadpans a despairing tone. “We are doomed.” Eiffel cracks up at the jab, which makes Hilbert smile at the sound and watch him, quietly happy. He looks at the clock and sighs at the time. When he looks back at Eiffel, he appears to be going to sleep. “Douglas, I have to ask. Minkovski mentioned you are an insomniac, but I have never seen one sleep this much. Its ridiculous.” Eiffel sighs dramatically, opening one eye to look at him. “Well, Sasha,” again Hilbert makes that confused, adorable noise, “Minkovski’s right. I was an insomniac, but it was mainly because I didn’t feel safe when I went to bed at night. I’d keep waking up in the middle of the night in a panic, and wouldn’t go back to sleep. So can you blame me for catching up, knowing that I can finally sleep easy with you here?” Hilbert shoots him a look before saying, almost wistfully, “Well, if you insist on sleeping all day, I cannot stop you.” He sighs in disappointment. “I suppose I will have to go to the animal shelter by myself. I will just look at cats, and ignore all the dogs. How sad they will be, knowing that you could have come to visit but chose to sleep instead.” He’s grinning at the ceiling as Eiffel jumps out of the bed in an instant, already digging through his closet to find clothes that could fit him. He snorts when Eiffel comes out in a shirt thats at least a size too big, wearing the jeans he had on last night. “Jeez, Sasha, what are you doing in bed still??? Get up! Are you just gonna stay here all day?!” He intentionally takes a while getting ready, ignoring Eiffel’s petulant whining, and when he’s ready Eiffel drags him out of the room by his hand. To his surprise, Eiffel goes by Minkovski’s office first, throwing open the door excitedly. “Hey, Minkovski! You got permission for my dog, right??” She looks taken aback, but nods slightly. “Sweet, gonna go get one today 'kay bye!” Hilbert lets himself be dragged to the parking lot where Eiffel finds a car and drives them to the city about twenty minutes away, positively bouncing in excitement. When they get there, however, he feels some trepidation. Eiffel has found what may be the most beat-up dog in existence, it’s missing an eye, an ear, and a leg, and frankly looks like it’s been through a blender. “Ah, Douglas, are you posit-” Eiffel is absolutely smitten, saying in awestruck tones, “This is the most beautiful dog I have ever seen. We’re getting her.” How can he say no to that? Besides, apparently she’s going to be their dog, and he honestly could die at that moment in total happiness, with no regrets. So thats how they find themselves in Jacobi’s lab an hour and a half later, getting Misha measured for a new leg.

“Hey, Maxwell.” “Yes, Jacobi?” “Is it just me or are Eiffel and Hilbert holding hands.” “Nope, I see it too.” They exchange money, Jacobi looking defeated as Maxwell grins victoriously. Hilbert just watches Eiffel talk to Hera’s projection gleefully, holding his hand in one hand and petting Misha with the other. When he notices Jacobi and Maxwell’s looks he blushes and glances away, embarrassed but refusing to let go. Minkovski pops by to see what the commotion is, and the first words out of her mouth is, “Jesus Christ! Eiffel, is that even a dog?!” He bristles, covering Misha’s remaining ear with his hand. “Minkovski! You shouldn’t say that about a lady as beautiful as Misha, thats just rude! Tell her, Sasha, she’s being mean to our dog!” Hilbert goes crimson at the way Minkovski looks at them, eyebrows raised, and Maxwell giggles as she whispers to Jacobi, “Sasha?” Eiffel looks at his embarrassed expression and immediately pulls him into a hug, hiding him from view defensively. “Now look what you’ve done, you’ve embarrassed my boyfriend! You guys are terrible friends, I don’t even know why we hang out.” Jacobi deadpans, saying, “You embarrassed him, stupid, I’m sure being called by a pet name infront of everyone would be a little jarring for someone as stoic as Hilbert. Also, you live here. And also work here. So you kind of can’t avoid us.” Eiffel looks appalled, then chagrined as he realizes what he’s done. He lets Hilbert go finally, who just hides his face in his hands until he can calm down which will likely take a while. Eiffel sounds apologetic when he speaks to him quietly, unaware that everyone else is straining their ears to hear what he says. “Sorry, I just got a little excited. You.. you don’t mind, right? That I call you Sasha or that I called you my boyfriend?” Hilbert looks up at him, then away in order to keep his thoughts organized. “Niet, I do not mind. However, warn me next time.” “Hey, Sasha, I’m gonna tell everyone we meet that you’re my boyfriend. There, you’ve been warned.” He just groans weakly, hiding his face again, and Eiffel laughing as he kisses the top of his head before looking behind him and seeing everyone still there. They’re all red in the face, trying to hide the fact they eavesdropped by acting busy; Minkovski writing randomly on a chalkboard while Jacobi hits things with a hammer and Maxwell types wildly, but Hera just winks at him, not even bothering to hide it.

Later that night Hilbert’s fighting Misha for space in Eiffel’s bed, pulling him on top of him while glaring at her until she picks a spot to lay in before looking smug and letting Eiffel lay down next to him finally. “The dog is a bedhog. Also, I think she is trying to keep you from laying next to me, and that will not stand.” Eiffel just grins, getting comfortable by scooting as close to Hilbert as physically possible before sighing in satisfaction. They all sleep, each of them feeling like they’re home.


End file.
